


A to B

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Sam Winchester, Caretaking, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Carries Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18793906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: All Sam has to do is get them to the doors.  Their car is just outside.But lurking between there and here is the monster they’re hunting, just waiting to pounce on him and his injured, unconscious brother.These are not good odds.





	A to B

It doesn’t seem that difficult, on the face of it.

The corridor’s maybe fifty yards, from where he’s standing by the reception desk, to the double doors that lead to the stairs and then the parking lot.

The Impala’s right at the bottom, just waiting on them.

All he has to do is get them there.

The problem is the doors.

There are maybe eight classrooms off that hallway, four to each side, and each one of the doors is tight shut.

The problem is will they stay that way.

Because Sam knows the way the thing they’re hunting operates. It likes the game. It likes to let its victims think there is hope, that they are going to escape, and then it pounces.

And tears them apart. 

So Sam would bet everything he owns (which, to be fair, isn’t much) that it’s lurking in one of those rooms, just waiting for them to pass.

If Dean wasn’t hurt, Sam wouldn’t have a problem with that.

If Dean wasn’t hurt, they would either buddy search each room until they found the bastard and then killed it; or they’d just make a run for it, and if it did try to jump one of them, the other one would take it out. 

That was assuming it was quick enough to catch them; they were pretty fast when they had to be.

But Dean is hurt. He’s unconscious across Sam’s shoulders, still breathing, but there’s a deep gouge in his side that’s going to need cleaned and stitched, and maybe a transfusion for the blood loss.

The problem is that with Dean like that, Sam can’t run. He’d be too slow, and Dean’s weight will just throw him off balance, and he doesn’t want to risk turning a bad injury into a critical one.

It also means when he passes whatever room that thing is in, it can just jump out and take them.

But the alternative, setting Dean down so that he, Sam, can search the rooms isn’t an option either. He has no way of making sure he isn’t showing it his unprotected back, and for all he knows it might find a way to sneak out and finish Dean off.

No. Their only way out is through, even though Sam’s sure they won’t reach the end of the hall never mind their car.

But they have to try.

He has one hand locked around one of Dean’s thighs, and he’s hunched forward enough to try and keep Dean’s weight steady so he can hold their sawn off in the other hand.

This thing’s tough, though; it’ll take near on a direct hit to hurt it, and probably him blowing its head off to kill it.

Like this, he’ll be lucky not to miss it completely, but that’s for when it decides to show itself.

He starts walking. His shoes squeak quietly on the floor, a noise probably no one would notice during the day, when the hall would be filled with faculty and students. 

Now, in the still night, it’s impossibly loud, and Sam cringes with each step.

But still, he keeps going.

He passes the first two level doors without incident, wishing he could feel like some of the tension was leaving him, but it just got worse; two down, six to go.

Sam pauses as he comes level with the next two classrooms, sure he’s heard something moving but unable to work out exactly where.

He doesn’t hear the noise again, though, and figures now he’s so ramped up he’s hearing sounds that aren’t there.

He starts walking again, and then Dean’s suddenly shaking across his shoulders.

Dammit. Maybe he’s going into shock, maybe he’s coming to, and the pain of having his side clawed open is overwhelming him.

It isn’t like Sam can put him down to check, or help, isn’t like there’s much he can do in a high school corridor with something stalking them that would make a hell hound piss itself.

He sends Dean a silent plea to hold on, and tries to move faster.

Dean groans, and flails, his hand slapping at Sam’s arm.

He pants something that sounds like Sam’s name, but it’s not a cry of pain.

It’s a cry of warning.

Sam hears the horrid creak and starts to turn around, looking not towards the doors, but up.

And there it is. It’s moved back one of the ceiling panels, and is slowly scaling its way out, long claws and lithe form making the spider like pursuit of them no problem.

It hisses, and opens its maw to reveal long curved teeth and a blood red gullet. 

And then it lunges at them.

Sam hates himself for it, he does, but he dumps Dean off his shoulders and brings the shot gun up on the same moment.

He fires when the bastard is just inches from him, so close he can smell the dead meat on its breathe, and the bullet finds its mark. He can’t miss, not at this distance, and then its head explodes, and blood and gristle spray him and the walls.

The body thumps heavily to the floor, lying there in a spreading pool of red, and Sam staggers away from it, body shaking.

It’s dead.

He turns, and finds Dean staring up at him, and underneath the pain and shock on his face…

Sam can see pride.

++

Hurt though he is, Dean knows they can’t stick around their motel room now the hunt’s down.

Sam has the creature’s body in the trunk, he’s cleaned up the corridor as best he can, and now they need to get out of there.

Hanging around post hunt, no matter the reason, is a good way to get picked up by the police and is the last thing they need.

But he pulls in past the town limits, and shoves some pills and booze into his brother, tapes a make-do dressing over the wound, and then gets back behind the wheel.

When he thinks it’s safe, and when he’s sure they can’t wait any longer, he finds another motel, and books a room and hauls Dean inside.

He tears the shower curtain down, and rolls Dean as carefully as he can to get him on top of the plastic, and then grabs their first aid kit and throws it open on the bed.

Dean’s pale and shaking as Sam pulls on some gloves, and grabs the bottle of booze from the table.

“Fuck,” is all his brother has time to say and then he can’t speak at all, and Sam grabs his shoulder in sympathy because he knows the feeling of being on fire when somebody douses an open wound on your body with alcohol.

When he feels Dean go limp under his hold, he looks up sharply, but he’s just passed out, and that’s probably for the better.

Sam threads a needle, and makes a start on the first stitch. This is going to take a while, and Dean’ll be sore as hell when he wakes up, but once he’s rested…

Sam can get him home.


End file.
